Killing the Servant
by Jammeke
Summary: Robin never actually meant to kill Much, but he knew he might end up killing him anyway.


**Title:** Killing the Servant  
**Author: **Jammeke  
**Rating:** K+  
**Summary:** So maybe he wasn't going to kill his former servant by poking him with arrows or burying him alive; he'd never actually planned on doing those things to him anyway. But the thought that he could kill the man by simply being _him_, Robin, was disturbing.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.  
**A/N:** I would never kill Much. Honest. I'm just playing with his and Robin's feelings here.

**Killing the Servant**

Robin was going to kill Much.

He was. He had a plan. Well – half a plan. First, he would find the man. Then, he would tie a rope around his ankle, hang him upside down in a tree and rant at him for days to come. Things were still a bit blurry after that. No matter. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

In truth, he was pretty sure he would not go through with whatever plan he'd eventually come up with. But for now, the thought of burying his former manservant alive was enough to keep him from pulling his brains out through his nostrils. He wasn't exactly looking forward to punishing the blond man, but he didn't have much of a choice.

_Much_ of a choice. Hm.

Ironic.

oOo

The archer took a few strides deeper into the woods. "I will find you, you know!" he yelled, taking in the quiet forest around him with narrowed eyes. Somewhere out there, his servant was running for his life. . .

. . . or cowering in the bushes.

"Much! Where are you?" he cried, raising his bow. No one answered. Just as Robin was about to cry out again, a twitch snapped behind him. He swirled around and came face to face with. . .

"Djaq."

"You sound disappointed." The Saracen walked up to him and gently took the bow from his hands. Robin let her, sighing as he slowly dropped his hands to his side.

"I was just. . ." He didn't know how to finish that sentence. None of the options in his head sounded right – or humane, for that matter.

"Trying to find Much?" Djaq said, giving him a pointed look.

Robin stared her, took in the sight of his Saracen bow in her Saracen hands and allowed himself to be distracted for a moment. "Huh? Yes." A pause, then, "You haven't seen him, have you?"

Djaq didn't answer his question. Instead, she reached out and placed a small hand on his right shoulder. "Robin, you cannot blame him."

"Yes, I can," he snapped, shaking off her hand. He strode off to the other side of the clearing so he was facing away from her. "He's a fool. He could have gotten us all killed."

He'd often been called a fool himself. Marian liked to use the word in their. . . conversations. She used it too often, though. He was certain he didn't deserve the word most of the time.

He was also certain he had every right to use it on Much now.

"He's a fool," he repeated quietly. Words weren't supposed to hurt, but Robin knew he could hurt his servant by calling him ugly names, and he felt like hurting his servant at the moment. He only hoped the man was listening.

Behind him, Djaq sighed. "He is sorry for what he did, Robin."

Robin didn't reply to that statement. He was too busy searching the forest for traces of Much. The man couldn't be far off – he didn't like to stray far from Robin's side. Sometimes, that annoyed him. Today, it was a good thing. It would make locating him a lot easier.

"If you would give him a chance to explain," Djaq continued, refusing to be quiet.

Robin silently cursed her for her words. Complete silence was what he needed right now. He wanted to be able to hear his servant, should he do anything to give away his position. Much wasn't good at sitting or being still and it would not be long before he made a move.

"Robin." The Saracen woman refused to be ignored.

He sighed and turned around to face her. "I can't give him that chance, Djaq. He put all our lives at risk. He needs to learn that we cannot afford to make mistakes."

She regarded him silently for a while. "By killing him?"

Robin stared at the bow in her hands. "Are you going to stop me?" he asked, allowing a humorless smile to graze his lips.

"If I have to," she said solemnly.

"You wouldn't shoot me," he told her, resisting the urge to laugh.

"No, but you will not shoot Much either," she said, lifting his bow up in the air. "For I do not plan on returning it to you until you've had a chance to speak with him."

"I don't need my bow to kill him, you know," Robin reminded her, holding up his hands for her to see. "I can do it with my mere hands." This, he knew from past experience. Sometimes, he wished he didn't. His nights would be so much more peaceful if he had never gained that particular kind of knowledge.

"Robin."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm not going to kill him."

"That, I already knew. I just want you to listen to him," Djaq said, giving him a meaningful look.

"That's a great idea, Djaq," Robin said impatiently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Again. "So tell me, then. How can I listen to him if I can't find him?"

Djaq smiled. "Much?"

And there he was – hands clasped behind his back and a sheepish expression on his face. He'd put on the rainbow-colored sweater Robin had sewn him years ago, and he was studying the trees with an intensity Robin had only ever seen on the faces of short-sighted people trying to read.

oOo

When his former servant didn't say anything, Robin decided to break the silence for him. "Much. . ." he said in a low voice.

"Master." To his credit, Much wasn't smiling nervously.

Robin regarded him silently for a moment. "I heard you wanted to _explain _something to me," he reminded the man, turning to Djaq, only to find the Saracen missing. She must have silently slipped away into the forest. No matter. He would scold at her later.

"Yes. Well. I. . . I do," Much admitted, holding still at what he probably assumed was a safe distance. Robin estimated he could cover the distance in four seconds; three if he dropped his quiver first. It was of no use to him anyway. Djaq had taken his bow with her.

Then, he realized arrows could also be used for poking. With that thought in mind, Robin decided to hold on to his quiver. For now.

"Go on then," he said coldly. "Explain."

Much opened and closed his mouth a couple of time, closely resembling a fish on shore. "Well," he began. "I really didn't mean to. . . I mean, I really, _really_ didn't. . ."

_"Much!"  
_  
Much took a deep breath. "Fine," he said in a high-pitched voice, "All right." He closed his eyes for a second. "I was just trying to. . . you know. . . get us some food, because -"

"Get us some food?" Robin echoed.

"If you would just let me finish -"

"_Get us some food_? Much, you put all our lives on the line for _food_?" Robin stared at his manservant – former manservant – in disbelief.

He shouldn't be surprised, really. He should have known. Much would probably die for a little bit of pork. He was such a. . . simple man.

There really was no other phrase for it.

"No! Well, _yes_. Just listen to me," Much pleaded, staring at him with an exasperated expression on his face. "It was all Will and Djaq's idea."

"Oh, so you're blaming them now," Robin said, eyes widening with anger. "They would _never_ endanger a mission for their own simple pleasures, Much!"

Much stared at him with an offended expression on his face. "It wasn't for _me_!" he cried, throwing up his hands in desperation. "Why don't you _ever_ let me finish?"

"Because you ramble a lot," Robin told him evenly, ignoring the hurt look that crossed his former servant's face. Then, Much's words caught up to him. "It wasn't for you?"

"No," Much said miserably. "No, it was for you."

_Oh_.

Robin stared at Much, scrutinizing his face closely. He hadn't been expecting _that _answer from the other man.

"For me?" he repeated eventually, furrowing his brow in confusion. "But. . . why?"

The expression on Much's face was one of relief, tinged with a little but of concern. "We. . . Djaq and I. . . well, we think you're not eating enough." His gaze swept over Robin's body, making the archer feel strangely self-conscious.

"_That_, Much, is because. . . I haven't been hungry in a while," Robin finished lamely.

Much snorted. "Please. Whatever leftovers we don't give away to the poor, you give to us. _You_ haven't been eating because there isn't enough food for all of us." That last sentence came out as an accusation.

Robin sighed. "That's not true. . . I just. . ." He didn't know how to finish that sentence. Much was right. But he could hardly admit that to the other man, could he?

Trying to hold on to his earlier anger, he lashed out at Much again. "Even so, that is no reason to storm off on your own and endanger all our lives in the process! Our mission was going well. They didn't even know we were there until you decided to make a run for the other side of the courtyard."

Much bit his lip. "I tried to go undetected."

"Yeah? Well, you _failed_." Robin spat out the last word, knowing it would upset his former servant.

Indeed, Much flinched at his harsh words.

oOo

Robin knew he was being unnecessarily mean. His servant had merely been trying to help him. However, he'd done so at the expense of their mission and Robin couldn't overlook the fact that because of Much's actions, they had no money to give to the people in Clun tomorrow.

"I should have known you'd do something _stupid_ like that," he continued, turning his back on the other man. Much as he needed to get this rant off his chest, he had no desire to watch the other man's expression anymore. Most of his anger had faded; watching his former servant's face fell no longer brought him satisfaction of any kind.

"I should have known," he mumbled quietly, staring off into the distance. To be fair, Robin couldn't have known Much would endanger their mission by stealing food. What he _could_ have known, however, was that the man wouldn't think twice about endangering the mission if he thought he could help another person by doing so.

He should have realized Much would never do anything for his own good. The man was always trying to help others.

. . . He was always trying to help Robin.

Yet, Robin didn't know how to deal with his friend's concern. He brushed it off most of the time; afraid the others would think him weak if he acknowledged his servant's worriment, afraid he might have to admit he _did _need Much's care if he gave in to the man's concern. He couldn't do that – not to the others, and least of all to himself.

He was Robin Hood and he shouldn't need anyone.

It was strangely quiet in the forest. For a moment, Robin thought Much had run off again, but when he turned around, the man was still standing at the edge of the clearing.

The archer watched Much closely, waiting for a reaction to his harsh words. He was ready for whatever his former servant would throw at him.

But Much didn't protest. He didn't yell at him. He didn't run away and he didn't cry.

He just stood there.

And Robin's heart broke.

"Much," he said eventually, realizing Much wasn't going to break the silence anytime soon. "You should have _told_ us what you were planning." Most of his anger had faded from his voice, and realizing it wasn't hard to lose his thunderous expression, he stared straight into his former servant's eyes. "We could have helped you."

Much shook his head, looking slightly less wretched, but miserable all the same. "You couldn't have," he protested quietly. "You would have deemed the mission more important."

"Shouldn't I have?" Robin said, raising his eyebrow. "Much – we were going to try to get into the Sheriff's vault. If you hadn't bursted for the _kitchen_, we would've gotten our hands on the Sheriff's money." He shook his head. Didn't the man understand? "We could have fed entire villages if you hadn't acted as. . ." _stupid_ ". . . sudden as you did."

Much took a step towards him then. "Maybe we would have," he said, jabbing a finger in Robin's direction. "But if _you_ starve to death, what good will money bring us?"

Robin sighed. "Much, I'm not starving to –"

"Yes, you are!" his servant interrupted him, distress written all over his face. "You may not notice it, but _I_ do. I look after you, Robin. It's what I do. And you haven't been eating well. In fact, you haven't been eating well for months." His gaze swept over Robin's body again. "You can't afford to lose any more weight, master. Soon, there will be nothing left to lose."

Robin rubbed his eyes, trying to will away the frustration at his former servant's words. He wasn't even frustrated at the blonde; he was frustrated at himself. The harsh truth was that Much was telling the truth. He hadn't been eating well. Had, in fact, not eaten a decent meal in days. But knowing this and hearing it from someone else were two different things.

"Much," he said, trying to make the man see sense. "How can I so much as think about eating if my villagers are starving? How can I think about putting food in my mouth when I have scarcely enough food to give to my gang?"

Much took another step towards him. "You _have_ to think about taking care of yourself, master. You're our only hope. You are England's only hope, Robin." He dropped his gaze to the ground. "And I can't take care of you all by myself. You have to help me."

_You have to help me. _The only time his loyal servant asked for Robin's help, it was to help him take care of Robin.

He truly did not deserve the man's care. He wasn't capable of showing his appreciation. He simply couldn't return the man's generosity. He never showed the man the gratitude he felt.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Robin told himself to express his gratitude right now. "Much. . ."

He couldn't. He didn't know what to say to him.

Much's gaze was still fixed on the ground. "And yes, master, I am sorry for nearly getting us killed. But I am not sorry for doing what I did." He raised his gaze defiantly. "I'm not. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Robin stared at him.

He should be shouting at the man right now. He should be telling him _never_ to defy him again.

So why wasn't he?

Much took yet another hesitant step forward and put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Let's go back to the camp," he said softly. "I will cook you something to eat."

"No, I. . ." This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything had turned out wrong. He was supposed to be angry at Much; he was supposed to be lecturing him; he was supposed to be. . . He was supposed to be his _leader_. He was supposed to be Robin Hood.

"Come on." Much put a hand on the small of his back and gave him a gentle shove. "You must have something to eat."

oOo

Robin allowed himself to be steered in the direction of their camp. Somehow, he'd stopped yelling at Much, and somehow, he'd lost control over the conversation – no, the whole situation entirely.

Much dropped his hand, seemingly confident the discussion was over.

"We will finish this conversation," Robin told him. It was a weak protest, but it was all he had at the moment. Suddenly, he thought of something. "I thought we didn't have any food?"

"I saved you some bread," Much said, ignoring Robin's first statement. The blond man patted him lightly on his shoulder, and Robin shrugged the hand off without a word.

They continued to walk in silence.

Something was still bothering Robin. He wasn't sure if he should voice his thoughts, but if he didn't do it now, he certainly wouldn't do it in the future. Somehow, Much had gotten him to lower his guard – if only just a little – and it would have to be back up again before they faced the others.

When they were near the camp, the archer decided to speak his mind before he changed it again. "Much?" He turned his head to the side to look at his friend. "I _would_ have listened to you, you know." At his servant's blank look, he added, "If you had told me about your plan."

Much let out a dry laugh. "No, you wouldn't have," he said, solemnly shaking his head. "But it's all right. I know you don't like listening to me." He, too, turned his head, and suddenly they were looking each other in the eye.

They came to an abrupt halt. Robin searched Much's eyes for any signs of pain over his previous statement, and his former servant gave him a hesitant smile. "You're listening to me _now_, aren't you?" he said.

Robin was. And most of the time, he liked listening to Much. He'd tell him that someday.

He started walking again. "You know, the tax money will still be there tomorrow," he said lightly. He could hear Little John's heavy voice in the distance. The others were near. It was time to change into Robin Hood again. "It will be double guarded, of course."

"Of course," Much agreed, sounding a little bit guilty.

Robin smiled every so slightly. "A challenge," he offered, staring straight ahead. He didn't need to see his former servant's face to know what his reaction would be.

"There _is_ something wrong with you," Much told him, shaking his head in disbelief. He was silent for a moment. "At least you have until tomorrow to come up with a plan. For a moment there, I thought you'd want to storm back into the castle today."

Robin nodded solemnly. "I do," he told the blonde at his side, smiling when the man snapped his head to the side to look at him.

"What?" his former servant said, brow furrowed in confusion. "Master. . . what –"

Robin fought back a cheeky grin – and failed miserably. Enjoying the dawning on Much's face, he halted in his steps. "Tonight, we are going to pay the castle kitchens a little visit."

It was quiet for a moment. "We are?" Much said wearily, managing to sound both hopeful and concerned at the same time.

"Hm mm," Robin confirmed, grinning even wider. "Someone told me we're almost out of food. I think we need to get some more. Don't you?"

"But. . . _You_. . ."

Robin sped up the pace, knowing Much was staring after him with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Come on, Much. We have a mission to plan," he said over his shoulder.

It took Much a moment to catch up with him. "You'll be the death of me," he gasped, pulling at Robin's arm. "You know that, don't you? You, master, _will be the death of me_."

Robin shrugged off the man's hand.

So maybe he wasn't going to kill his former servant by poking him with arrows or burying him alive; he'd never actually planned on doing those things to him anyway. But the thought that he could kill the man by simply being _him_, Robin, was disturbing.

It wasn't just disturbing.

It hurt.

He might end up killing his best friend.

Robin spared a glance at the man beside him.

It hurt to know Robin Hood would not be able to save him.

**~fin~**


End file.
